


A New Friend

by ashitanoyuki



Series: Bobby Singer Drinks With Father Figures [1]
Category: Supernatural, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashitanoyuki/pseuds/ashitanoyuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby Singer and Master Splinter share a drink together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wisttic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wisttic/gifts).



> I have to bribe my friends to sleep somehow. Besides, since my hard drive crashed, I don't have any of my other fics to work on at the moment, and I've been promising an SPN/TMNT crossover for a while now.

It wasn’t so much that he minded having a giant, humanistic rat in his house. All these years hunting monsters and ghosts and the lowest banes Hell could produce, a giant rat was far from the strangest thing Bobby Singer had ever encountered. No, it was more that he had no idea how he was going to tell his boys to call off their hunt in New York; the bastards that had plagued the city for months were already being taken care of.

“So,” Bobby said, pouring himself a stiff glass of cheap old rotgut. He’d need the drink to handle this new information. “You’re telling me that my boys ain’t needed because you’ve already got a team on the situation. A team of… Turtles.”

“Yes.” The rat gazed serenely at Bobby, dark eyes glinting with a peaceful sort of pride. It was the same look Dean had held the first time little Sammy had burst into the room with a sloppy, ill-spelled picture book he’d made himself in crayon; the same look Bobby was sure he had had when Dean got his GED, or when Sam had called him about Stanford. Pride in one’s family—there were no words to convey the depth of meaning that look held to him. “The Kraang are on the run. Most of them have already left this world.”

“Aliens.” Now that, Bobby had trouble wrapping his head around. Why he could accept angels and demons and giant rats, but not aliens, was something he could worry about another time. “Right. You sure you’ve got that under control? My boys are pretty handy in a fight.”

“I am sure they are.” The rat—Splinter, he had called himself—quirked his mouth in what may have been a smile. Bobby wasn’t sure how a rat could make such a human face, but the expression was somehow fitting. “However, they seemed a bit—surprised when they saw my sons.”

A rat with turtles for sons. Well, no stranger than Bobby and his boys, he supposed. “Yeah, Dean’s got an itchy trigger finger,” he admitted, downing the rotgut in a single gulp. “Sorry about that. Your boys okay?”

“Oh yes.” The rat’s nose twitched as he nodded. “I would be very disappointed in Leonardo if he could not dodge a few poorly aimed bullets shot in surprise.”

Poorly aimed wasn’t like Dean, but even in their line of work, it wasn’t every day that you saw a giant mutated turtle with weapons. Bobby nodded. “Well, I’ll call my boys off your boys, that’s not a problem. You sure you don’t want back-up?”

Splinter nodded. “For the time being, we have the city under our protection,” he replied amicably. “And I understand that you are busy waging a war in the Midwest.”

Bobby snorted. “Got demons running around all over the place. I’ll admit, it’d be good to have the boys home.” He surveyed the rat—no, the man—before him, calm and calculating. Bobby Singer’s instincts rarely lied; Splinter was an odd one, to be sure, but if there was any evil in him, it was locked down tight. He and his boys weren’t monsters. “I’ll tell Sam and Dean to haul ass back here, if you and your turtles have the Big Apple covered. Give me a call if you see any black eyed bastards, and I’ll send them right back to help out.”

“Of course.” Splinter met his eyes, composed and serious. “And if the Kraang spread out west, I will be sure to contact you, and perhaps even send my sons.”

Bobby grunted an affirmative. “We’ve got our hands pretty full, but there’s always time for a hunt on the side when the crazy comes under our radar.” Hands steady, he poured another glass of rotgut. “Care to have a drink before you ninja your way back to the good old east coast?”

The rat’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and yes, that was definitely a smile on his pointy face. “Of course,” he said, accepting a glass from Bobby and allowing the man to pour him a generous measure of cheap alcohol.

Yes, Bobby Singer had definitely seen stranger things. After all, there wasn’t anything so weird or supernatural about sharing a drink with a new friend, now, was there?


End file.
